


Heat

by MayhemHeart



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Firefighter Lestrade, M/M, Mystrade Monday, shop au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:27:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26693713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MayhemHeart/pseuds/MayhemHeart
Summary: Mystrade Monday Prompt #9"I can't do this on my own."
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Comments: 16
Kudos: 81





	Heat

**Author's Note:**

> No Beta, all mistakes are mine. 
> 
> [ Also based on this tumblr blog ](https://paialovespie.tumblr.com/post/630471703419584512/thesilverapplesofthemoon-paialovespie)
> 
> And if you are looking for an awesome Lestrade Firefighter/Mystrade story please check out JessieBlackwood's amazing story [ Spark to a Flame ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21688690/chapters/51729265)

"It's your turn to talk to the _fire brigade_ ," Sherlock's voice drawled, and Mycroft looked up from the stack of order forms on his desk. Sherlock was leaning against the doorjamb of his office with a knowing smirk. 

"Phillip?" he asked, and Sherlock nodded. Usually, once or twice a month, the bakery next door had their fire alarm go off, and it was protocol for the fire department to check with the shops on either side. Phillip Anderson was a skilled baker, but he was also easily distracted, leading to many burned cakes and false alarms. 

"And you cannot handle this why?" Mycroft asked, slightly irritated. 

Sherlock's smirk turned downright mischievous, "I'm on my _break_."

Mycroft glanced at his watch, "It's ten in the morning."

Sherlock shrugged, "I'm taking it early." He spun and walked away. 

Mycroft sighed and stood up, pulling down on the bottom of his charcoal waistcoat to straighten it and smoothed down his brass colored tie. There was no need to put on his jacket or to roll his sleeves back down. He didn't plan to be upfront for that long; as soon as he assured the firefighter everything was well enough, he would simply close up shop until Sherlock got back (there were no current appointments). It wasn't as if Mycroft was incapable of dealing with customers, but it involved a lot of small talk, and Sherlock, for all his cheek, was better suited to the job. Mycroft was content to let Mrs. Hudson and Sherlock handle customers while he completed all the paperwork. He took a deep breath and braced himself to deal with the temporary inconvenience, stepping out of his office. 

As he walked to the front, his steps faltered, seeing the firefighter waiting for him, and he felt a lurch of nervous excitement. Immediately Sherlock's unplanned break made sense and how he loathed his brother in that single moment. He saw Sherlock shoot him a conspiratory glance, and Mycroft grabbed the sleeve of his shirt as his brother made to leave.

"No, Sherlock," Mycroft quietly hissed, "where are you going? **I can't do this on my own.** "

Sherlock pulled his arm away and had the audacity to wink at him, "Sorry, brother dear, but it _is_ my lunch break."

Mycroft cleared his throat as the firefighter walked up to him; he nodded briefly to Sherlock as they passed each other. Mycroft felt a tingling in the pit of his stomach as deep maple eyes, framed by dark lashes, looked him up and down slowly. The bell on the door chimed as Sherlock left, and the two of them were left alone. 

"Mycroft," the low husky tone said in greeting and settled over Mycroft like a warm heavy blanket. The man's grin was irresistibly devastating, and he suppressed a shiver. Mycroft's eyes greedily drank what could be his wet dream come to life. Even in his uniform, Mycroft could tell he was well-muscled with broad, sturdy shoulders. He had his helmet held in one hand, leaving his dark brown hair that was starting to grey at the temples, disheveled and begging to be touched. Mycroft ached to run his fingers through it to see if it felt as soft as it looked. He wanted to press himself against that hard body and trail kisses up the side of his tan neck. 

"Gregory," Mycroft replied in greeting, trying to keep his voice from shaking. It wasn't the first time they met under the same circumstances, but he usually let Sherlock do the talking. Obviously, Sherlock had become aware of his little crush and was now punishing Mycroft for some past transgression between them. "As you can see, everything is acceptedly in order here. I trust Mr. Anderson is well?"

"Yeah, just burned a tray of muffins. Sally's over there now, giving him another lecture about unattended ovens and fire hazards," Greg rolled his eyes. 

"That's-" Mycroft was interrupted by the door chime as a customer walked into the store. 

"Good morning Sir," Mycroft greeted pleasantly, plastering on a fake smile, "welcome to Holmes & Hudson Custom Suits. Do let me know if you need anything."

The elderly gentleman nodded and proceeded to the other side of the shop to look at the ties' display. 

"Well,' Greg huffed with a teasing smile, "I didn't get a greeting like _that._ "

Mycroft forgot himself and waved a hand, dismissively, "You're too attractive for me to process my thoughts properly - Oh." Mycroft felt his cheeks burn, and his heart raced.

Greg's wide eyes blinked slowly and then he burst out laughing, the sound rich and deep. 

"I am terribly sorry; please disregard that," Mycroft groaned and resisted the urge to turn tail and flee. 

Greg's laughter broke off, and his eyes sparkled, "Now, why would I do that?"

"Because it was highly inappropriate." 

"Hmm," Greg bit his bottom lip and leaned forward slightly. Mycroft's eyes immediately zeroed in on the movement as Greg slowly rolled his lower lip, releasing it from its hold, leaving it slightly red. "Would it be inappropriate to ask if you wanted to go out for drinks later tonight?" Greg asked. 

"Oh-" Mycroft startled and glanced up to meet Greg's heated gaze, his knees went weak and threatened to give out, "I...I suppose not."

"Great," Greg stepped back and flashed a blinding smile, "Meet you here at seven?"

Mycroft's body felt slow, like it was moving through molasses, and he just nodded dumbly in agreement. His brain melted, trying to process the current data and kept stalling at the thought of Gregory asking _him_ out.

Greg winked, and before he turned said, "See you later, gorgeous."

He was out the door before Mycroft could formulate a response, the door's chime echoing in his ears. He was frozen to the spot, and that's how Sherlock found him moments later, with an irate customer complaining about the lack of service.

**Author's Note:**

> Not happy with the ending but here you have it lol. 
> 
> [Tumblr ](https://thesilverapplesofthemoon.tumblr.com) :)


End file.
